An Unorthodox Book Club
by cheeseandoreosHP
Summary: Maybe it was the new found responsibility that made her see him differently. Maybe it was the disarming smile. Or maybe it was just the books. Either way, they owed it all to Austen and Stoker, to Sewell and Radcliffe. And James's infallible love of books. Because they might be talking right now, but they weren't 'close' friends. Not until she saw his bookshelf.
1. Prologue: The Truce

**Author's note: So I posted the first chapter of this as a oneshot, before the idea hit me for this sort-of-short story. I haven't written any _proper _Jily before, which is sad, and had to be rectified... I wanted to smash some stereotypes on the head, too. I dislike stereotypes generally on this site... It's nice the first time you read it, and then it just gets tedious... ****I've created the James of my fangirl dreams, anyway, so I hope you'll bear with me and the possible 'OOC James' that may result. **

**Also, I've done some shuffling. This is the prolouge, and the chapter I posted first has been put after it. Or I hope it has. As soon as I figure out how to do it... Which may take a while. **

**Thanks to aqua-empress, for her absolutely wonderful review! **

**Without further ado: **

**I don't own Harry Potter. **

"I am one hundred percent certain that a bowtruckle would win in a fight against a unicorn." Mary was maintaining, throwing Eliza a disgruntled glance. "I mean, how could it not? Have you seen those claws-"

Eliza rolled her eyes. "Yes, but Mare, a unicorn has hooves. And horns. And is about _a thousand times bigger." _

"Yeah, and it's like the most mundane creature ever to walk the earth! I mean, have you ever in a million years seen a unicorn actually _use _its horn? Like, when it's not dead and stuck in a potion?"

Eliza frowned. "No, but-"

"Good morning. Nice summer? Excellent." Marlene appeared out of nowhere, not bothering to wait for replies to her question as she threw a disturbed glance at Lily. "What are they-"

"Unicorns and bowtruckles." Lily said, her voice somewhat wearied. "They're debating which one would win in a fight."

"I... See?" Marlene replied, frowning.

Lily raised her eyebrows. "Do you? I don't. And I have been listening to them for the past _30 minutes. _30 minutes! And I already want to shoot the pair of them. Thank Merlin you're here. And... I'm out of here. Prefect meeting. Sorry."

"Rude!" Eliza exclaimed, but Mary just laughed

"Wait! Have you spoken to-" She started.

Lily didn't need to be a legilimens to know who she was talking about... Nobody did, really. There was only one possible person on the planet that her friend could be alluding to.

"No. Well, sort of. We exchanged letters, after Remus and Eliza told me he was made head boy. I just... We've called a truce."

"A truce?" Mary echoed, raising her eyebrows at Marlene and Eliza. "And would this truce by any chance involve shooting James Potter and disposing of the body in the Potters back garden so no one would ever find out ever?"

"No, actually." She exclaimed brightly, the overall impression somewhat mared by her I-couldn't-believe-it-either expression, her eyebrows raised in perpetual surprise even as she said it. "He's... He's not all bad."

"A truce, Lils?" Marlene repeated, looking astounded. "After like, 6 years of hexing him? _A truce?" _

Lily shrugged. "Yes. A truce."

"It's true." Eliza said, who, being James's cousin, was the best informed on this sort of thing. "They shook hands and everything. Black said they were one step closer to the day that Lily ripped off James's clothes, and his best mate was lost to him forever. It was fun."

"A truce." Mary repeated faintly.

"A truce."

It was a truce (Just in case you hadn't grasped. I think there was a boy in the hufflepuff compartment 6 carriages down that hadn't. But more on that later).

A truce which started everything. Which started a year of chaos and meetings and school and war and boyfriends and books... Of Reginald Cattermoles, Amos Diggorys, James Potters, Edward Hemmingways, Ayden McKinnons, Brandon Laceys, Frank Longbottoms, Isaac Brights and Sirius Blacks.

A truce which ended up shaping the future of the wizarding world. A truce which ended, ultimately, in a flash of green light. A truce which made them very happy, before it ended their lives...

It was a truce which cumulated in a love story. A great love story, to be sure. But, like the vast majority of love stories, it wasn't a fairytale. And there wasn't a happy ending. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

About those books.


	2. Something About Edgar Allan Poe

**Author's Note: I've never actually wrote anything like this before, so I'm just trialling... I can't actually take full credit for the idea, because it sort of came to me reading a headcanon. James is sort of a fangirl. Lily's sort of a goth. Neither are quite there yet. It's weird, slightly OOC stuff (or maybe just stepped away from that stereotype, where she's a genius with really refined taste and he's never actually even looked at a library.) but I hope you like it anyway. Depending on both reactions and other projects (I seem to have started about 10 more stories than I have time to handle recently) I might continue with it, but for the moment it's just a one shot. I really hope you like it! xD  
**

**Surprise as this will be to you all, I don't actually own Harry Potter. Shocker, I know x**

We live and breathe words. ... It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone~ Cassandra Clare

James Potter wasn't used to finding his lessons quite so difficult. Usually, he retained decent grades only through an extensive reading list and a particular intellectual prowess, even if he did say so himself... Essays were cobbled together in the small hours of the morning, and spells were mastered upon the first attempt. It was true that, contrary to popular belief, James rather liked the library- with the exception of Madam Pince, who seemed to think him untrustworthy ever since he'd been caught chucking acid pops at the back of Malfoy's head. And he was rather more fond of bookshops than he liked to admit. But that was besides the point.

In previous years, he'd seen students huddled over pieces of parchment and ancient textbooks, working for hours on end to perfect essays that would end up mediocre to the very last degree, and he would scoff. Not because he was particularly big headed (that would imply a certain level of investment in grades, and James preferred a certain indifference, adopting the role of lovable prankster, instead.) but because he just didn't have to work that hard to achieve mostly acceptable grades... He was the son of Dorea and Charlus Potter, after all, and results came naturally. Everything had a tendency to serve itself on a silver platter... Including his exam grades.

Much to his chagrin, however, this year was different.

So it was with a heavy heart that he climbed the stairs to the dormitory, intending to put aside Hugo and Bronte in favour of poor Bathilda Bagshot, who, he was semi percent sure, was making it up as she went along.

Most notable historian of a century his backside.

All of this flew out the window, however, the moment he entered the dormitory and happened across the very last person he'd ever expect to see.

"Evans!" He cried in surprise, nearly dropping his books. "Umm... Did you get lost on the way to the head girls office or something? Because I hate to have to tell you this, but you're in the _boys _dormitory."

She laughed and stood up from where she'd been sat primly on the windowsill, flashing him a smile that made his heart beat somewhat erraticly.

Get a grip on yourself, he reprimanded. You've just been in head meeting with the girl for three hours straight.

Common sense suggested that, after spending a variably large number of hours in her company each week, James should be able to be in the same room as her without wanting to throw himself on top of her.

Every nerve in his body seemed to suggest otherwise.

"Actually." She said, standing up. "I was looking for Remus. He leant me a book the other month, and I still haven't returned it, so I thought I'd better nip up and give it back. I didn't want him thinking I'd stolen it or something."

James laughed. "Unlikely, Evans. Remus seems to think you're a seraph, incapable of wrong. He'd sooner assume the book was stolen by the giant squid and set fire to under water."

She laughed, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "That's a somewhat disturbing vision. I think he's viewing me through rose tinted glasses there. Either that or he's confused me with Seraphiel, in which case I'm concerned. I've never really taken to emitting firey-god radiation."

He smirked. "Well, I'm not sure about the fire thing, but even you have to admit you're the poster child for teachers pet. You're the most responsible person I know. Remus likes to know that sort of thing still exists. He tires of playing parent to us all sometimes, you know."

"I'm not sure whether to be flattered or offended, Potter. But thank you anyway."

A brief silence ensued, in which James rubbed the back of his neck and Lily tucked a loose curl of hair behind her ear. They'd not really had much opportunity to test their sort-of-not-really friendship since their truce over the summer holidays, in which James agreed to stop asking her out and playing stupid pranks, and she agreed to stop nagging, hexing and/or punching. At head meetings they were cordial, at prefect meetings they were friendly, and in class or halls or the great hall they were almost like _friends. _

But there always _people _there to stop things becoming awkward. There was always Eliza, to start a discussion about the triviality of unicorns, or Remus, to bring up exams and prefect duties, or Sirius, to badger on about whatever random crap entered his head at any given moment. Even Peter, gorging himself with the kind of concentration typically associated with professional wizards chess, provided a welcoming distraction when things got awkward. Now that James was alone with her (which, it might be useful to note here, he had been longing for ever since about fourth year) he realised he had absolutely nothing to say...

"So," He said, casting around wildly. "What- what book was it you borrowed from Remus. Or books because there might have been, you know, more than one."

He cursed himself mentally as she cast him an amused glance. Smooth, Potter. Really smooth.

"Just one, actually. It's, um, Edgar Allan Poe? I borrowed it because it had The Fall of the House of Usher in it, which isn't in my mother's copy. It's darker than most classical literature I've read, I think. But I found it sort of-" She broke off, looking at James's face, and smiled half ruefully, half self consciously. "Sorry. I get kind of... overzealous about books. I'll just shut up."

James leaned against the bedpost, crossing his arms over his chest and surveying her, his brow furrowed. A faint pink tinge entered her cheeks.

"What?"

"I was just wondering." He said. "What you thought the significance of the house splitting in two was, as the narrator fled the house?"

Lily's brow furrowed, confused. "Wait. You've read Edgar Allan Poe?"

James nodded. "Yeah. I actually gave Remus that book, on his birthday, three years ago."

"Oh!" Lily beamed. "That explains the hoof print on the first place. Your patronus is a stag, right?"

James laughed, thinking about what 'Seraphial' would say if she knew the truth about that mark. "Yeah. Something like that. Did you enjoy it?"

Lily laughed, looking at the book. "I think perhaps _enjoy _is the wrong word. I was more... Transfixed? I couldn't physically put it down."

James grinned. "Merlin, I know. I was a bit freaked out by the end, but I loved it. His take on insanity kind of shook me up a little bit. I mean, I know it was written before the muggles could treat stuff like that, but come on! That guy is so obviously a nutcase it's unreal."

Lily's eyes widened. "Do you think?"

"You don't?" James asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" She said. "I mean, I think that's what Poe was probably implying. But whenever I thought Usher's character was refreshingly honest, actually. He saw the world a certain way, and who are we to say that the way he saw it isn't the right way, just because we can't see past the end of our noses?"

James shook his head. "It's not just because it's a world the narrator can't see, Evans. It's because it's creepy! The things Usher saw and invented frightened even him."

"So just because they're frightening, that means they're not real?" Lily challenged, a half smile on her face. James shrugged.

"No. But I mean, come on. Sometimes it's better to hold reality at bay, if it means that houses are going to start splitting into two and sinking into the ground, vanishing altogether. I think Usher brought down his own home, with the power of his own imagination, and his own perception of what you're calling the truth. And he didn't even know the narrator properly. I mean, he fancies that he's ill, so he calls on his so called best mate who he hasn't seen for years to come take care of him and his sister. It's nuts!"

Lily hotly protested, and the debate continued, until they found themselves sat next to the book shelf.

"Oh." Lily said, looking at the crammed set of bookshelves in wonderment. "Are these all Remus's?"

James snorted. "Hardly. Most of them are mine." He ran his finger down the spines. "Remus's the book shelf on the left. Make sure you put it in alphabetical order, though. He's insane about his books."

Lily laughed, and slotted the book into the slot he pointed to, before turning her attention to the bookshelf that belonged to James.

"Wow. You have _a lot _of classics."

He laughed, somewhat embarrassedly.

It was true that he had quite a large collection of muggle literature. Austen and Shakespeare and the Brontes and Dickens and Hugo. Sirius teased him mercilessly, but James could never bring himself to step away from the age old books his parents had passed onto him. His mother had instilled her love of classical literature, his father the kind of reverence for paper, crisp and worn beneath your fingers, that no one other than James ever seemed to _really _understand.

The fact of the matter was, no one had ever really got why James loved books. Moony, perhaps, rather liked books. But James had never seen him do the thing that James knew he did. That thing where he seemed to fall, fall endlessly, into the yellowing pages of an age old book, and pass right by the well kept spine, landing on his feet in a world that was thousands of years older than he would ever grow to be and had, somehow, survived.

Whilst Remus read Bathilda Bagshot, James read Henry Lawson. Whilst Remus read Edward Pager, James read Emily Bronte. Whilst Remus read Cassandra Smithly-Wright, James read Robert Frost. Whilst Remus read to inform, James read to escape.

It was true that Remus _liked _some muggle literature. But he didn't _love _it like James. James was basically what his mother liked to call a fangirl. And it was humiliating.

Especially with Lily running her hands along the spines of those books, and looking at him in wide eyed bewilderment.

Lily's eyes landed on something, and she snorted.

"Black Beauty?" She asked.

"What's wrong with that?" James exclaimed.

"Nothing." Lily said. "It's just... Well, I read it with my mum when I was about 7. Or at least, I tried. We couldn't get halfway through. It's a bit... boring."

"Boring?" James cried, incredulously. "It's one of the most beautifully written masterpieces of a century, with the heart rendering story of a neglected, abused horse accounted for in the compassionate words of a human who yearned to know what it was to be the beasts that roamed her childhood but in the end must admit that she is human, and can never truly understand what Black Beauty experienced."

Lily looked at him. "Wow. No wonder you're a scrawny little twit with no pubic hair to speak of, Potter. You really _are _a girl."

He gasped. "Ouch! Mind your tongue, Evans! Little James has feelings!"

"Little what? Oh. Oh, Merlin!" She laughed, clapping her hands over her ears and moaning. "I did not want to know that, Potter. For the love of Circe, that's completely disgusting!"

He grinned. "Kidding, Evans. Seriously, you can take your hands away from your ears. I was joking, I don't really call my you-know-what Little James."

She laughed. "Oh, thank Merlin, I was beginning to think I could never look you in the eye-"

"Sirius does, though." He grinned.

"Aah!" She cried, grimacing. "Godric's G-String, Potter!"

He laughed. "I didn't know Godric wore a G-String, actually."

Lily raised her eyebrows. "Okay, this conversation is taking us nowhere. I am going to return to the issue of Black Beauty. The thing has absolutely no plot! It's like just the ramblings of a horse and it's miserable little life. Things happen, kid. Get over it. And as for this Potter-nonsense of yours about it being the story of a human wanting to be a horse, Sewell wrote the book _from the point of view of a horse. _It's the most tedious book ever written!"

And so it wore on. James watched as Lily replied to his heated comments about the book, as their conversation spiralled, from enthused conversations about the world's the books contained to impassioned debates about metaphors and significance and back again.

It turned out that Lily wasn't really a fan of the classics, despite having been caught red handed with almost every single short story and poem ever written by Edgar Allan Poe. She despised Austen. She abhorred Frost. She hated Shakespeare.

How, _how _do you hate Shakespeare, James wondered.

But he found, as Lily brushed a curl behind her ear and talked animatedly with her hands, that he didn't much care.

"Okay." He said exasperatedly. "Okay. I still don't see how anyone in their right minds can dislike Black Beauty, but I'll let it drop. I can be a grown up."

"Can you really?" She asked, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I reckon someone should inform the press. McGonagall can tap dance in joy, Dumbledore can sing opera, and Slughorn can take pictures."

He rolled his eyes. "Har har. I think they'd be more shocked by the fact that their head girl dislikes Black Beauty."

She laughed. "I think I'm a bit of a letdown in the literary department. People expect me to read Austen and Hugo and whoever the hell else that you have on here. But I can't stand them."

James laughed. "No. You've just never given them the chance. There must be something on my book shelf that you like!"

She rolled her eyes, but moved back to examining the bookshelf. Finally, she gave a triumphant shout, and pulled out a book entitled 'Animal Farm.'

James pulled a face. "You know, I don't think I've ever read that one. It looked like one of my dad's."

Her eyes widened. "You've _never _read Animal Farm? Seriously? It was one of the first books my dad ever read Petunia and me, well before the Hare and the Tortoise and Cinderella."

"The what and the what and the _what?" _James asked, his eyes incredulous and brimming with curiosity. Lily mentally slapped herself.

Pureblood. Right.

"It's about communism... Though I don't suppose the wizarding world really has communism, does it? Or, at least, it would be called something else." She chewed on her lip thoughtfully, her eyes far away, before handing James the book. "You should read it. I know it's really short, but it's far better than your namby pamby romance novels about whiny, puny horses. And, shock, horror, it's from this century! Gasp!"

James rolled his eyes, but took the book. "I'll read it. If you read something from me?"

Lily said nothing as he reached out onto the shelf and pulled out the book, worrying her bottom lip.

"Okay, so my shelf is pretty short on Bram Stoker, Mary Shelley and Ann Radcliffe, but this should suit your gothic tastes."

"Are you calling me a goth?" Lily asked, laughing as she took the book.

"A bit of black nailpolish and eye liner, and some serious changes in musical taste, and your transformation would be complete." James informed her solemnly. She laughed.

"Fine. I'll read-" She squinted at the cover. "Wuthering Heights, and you read Animal Farm. We'll see who has the last laugh. And I promise to give this back before two months are over, hence restoring my seraph-ile reputation."

He laughed. "Deal. Tell me when you've finished, and we can come up here and debate about the finer points of Heathcliff's character, and this rather suspicious looking pig on the front cover."

Lily grinned fiendishly as she got up and brushed herself off. "Sounds like a date."

James blinked in shock. "Does it?" He asked, shock and hope creeping into his voice. Lily turned at the door, and laughed.

"No. It most definitely is _not _a date."

He laughed. He didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed- much as he wanted to, dating Lily was still a rather scary prospect. Perhaps he should mentally prep himself for this next meeting.

"An intellectual debate about books, then." He laughed.

"Sounds good." She replied, and left the room, leaving only a hint of vanilla and thyme in her wake, clinging to the scent of James's secret library. (Except that it wasn't really all that good of a secret, at all, when Padfoot ribbed him constantly about it. And enjoyed shouting about it to the whole Great Hall.)

He closed his eyes. _Books. _

After all this time, all these grand schemes in which he'd tried to persuade Lily to just look at him, books had been the answer.

Into the silence of the dormitory, he laughed as he had never laughed before in his life, drunk on the euphoria that this impromptu book club had brought.


	3. Of Emily Bronte and Mary MacDonald

**Author's note: I'm not really sure where this chapter came from... it took me a bit off guard, to be honest. I'd intended to write something completely different. I know it seems a bit bizarre and nonsensical at the moment, but... I HAVE A PLAN! All lose ends will tie up, I promise. There is method to the madness. **

**With a thousand thanks and hugs to willythenilly, who made me incorrigibly happy with their lovely review! **

**I don't own Harry Potter. **

Marlene Fisher wasn't much given to gossiping. She just minded her own business and bid other people to do the same.

But God, people were making it extraordinarily difficult for her...

"Alright, Mar?" Mary asked as he dropped into the seat opposite her. "You look a bit... Tense."

Smiling weakly, Marlene analysed her breakfast. "You know what, I might just have to take you up on that offer you made the other week."

Looking up, Mary frowned at the sight of Bertha Jorkins and Rita Skeeter, giggling and pointing at her friend. She clutched her knife a little tighter.

"Oh, for the love of Morgana... do you want me to go over there?"

Marlene hesitated, then shook her head. "It's fine. I'm meeting Isaac in a minute anyway, and I just... I can't deal with this right now."

Mary bit her lip. "So long as you're sure, Mar. I don't want you getting in over your head or... You know, cursing those little Slytherins down the stairs. Not that they wouldn't deserve it, but it would completely shatter your perfect reputation, and we all know how catastrophic that would be..."

"Who's shattering Mar's perfect reputation, now?" Asked a familiar voice. Mary and Marlene turned around to see Ayden McKinnon fall into the seat next to them. "Pass the sausages, Mar, I'm starved."

"Which would have nothing at all to do with one Sophie Kettleburn, I'm sure." Mary grinned, pointing her fork at him and raising her eyebrows suggestively. Ayden rolled his eyes in return.

"Don't make me out like some kind of man-whore, Mary. It's not very nice." He mocked pouted as he attacked his sausages. "Besides. Even Bertha Jorkins wouldn't be able to dream up something bad to say about Sophie, she's respectable. She's a prefect, she's top of the year, she's the daughter of a professor... She's-"

"Boring?" Mary suggested with a smirk, as she spread another layer of butter over her toast. "Careful, Ayden. If this girl gets any more exciting... The boys must be _queuing _up, right?"

"Hey there! Watch who you're calling boring, or we might just have to give in and name you permanent kettle."

"At least I attend parties." Mary quipped. "Have you ever even seen her with so much as a butterbeer?"

Ayden rolled his eyes. "Just because she doesn't drink, doesn't mean she doesn't know how to have fun, Mare."

Mary grinned. "And just because she's your girlfriend doesn't mean you can sneak off to the third floor broom closet, Ayden."

"Hey!"

"The pair of you are mental." Marlene quipped, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and patting her friend consolingly on his shoulder. "But Ayden's right. He's no Sirius Black. Speaking of which... Well, not really, but you know what I mean... Has anyone else noticed something off about James lately? He seems inordinately cheerful. Lily, too, now I think about it."

"Apparently she borrowed a book off him or something." Ayden said, frowning. "He was going on about it all last night... Hardly got any sleep. Stupid sod."

But there was a fondness in Ayden's tone that bellied the statement, and Marlene smiled, knowing he meant nothing by it. Isaac Bright was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet at the other end of the table, however, so she didn't have the time to tell her friend as much.

"Because the borrowing of a book _definitely _equates to a statement of undying love, right?" Mary sighed, rolling her eyes. Marlene looked at her friend shrewdly, then at the impatient Isaac Bright, who looked like he was going to explode if he kept her one second longer...

"Just... Stay out of trouble, yeah? The pair of you."

Ayden and Mary nodded their assent, unaware of how much trouble they were really about to land themselves in...

ℓℓℓ

"Hey! Evans!"

"Hey! Potter! I'm working. Go away."

James pouted, slouching into the Head Boy's chair in the office he shared with Lily. "Well that's rude. I just wanted to know if you'd finished-"

"No, for the love of Merlin, I have _not _finished the book. It's been three days! Have you any idea how thick that book is? It's a nightmare."

Eyebrows disappearing into his hairline, James surveyed Lily with ever increasing concern. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was pushed sloppily back... He'd thought he'd had a lot on his plate this year, but looking at her... She looked like she was cracking up.

All playful teasing melted from his face in an instant, leaving only vivid concern in its place. "Are you alright, Evans?"

"Fine. Just grand, actually. I'd be even better, however, if you left me alone."

James surveyed her from underneath his glasses, eyes flashing. "You don't mean that."

"Well... no, I don't. But I really do have a lot of work to do, James, and I really haven't had all that much time to read-"

"_Lily._ Look... Forget I asked, alright? I get it. It's NEWT year and all the classes are tougher and there's Head Girl duties to take into consideration and Fisher's having a rough time of it and Snape being... Snape. You don't have to read the book. Honestly. I just thought you'd enjoy it is all."

Lily looked up at him, and all her anger seemed to melt away. Leaning against the desk, she put her head in her hands and stared at him with apparent hopelessness. "It isn't... It isn't about any of that."

"What is it about then, Lily?"

Biting her lip, she stared at him, eyes wide. "It's just... Nothing."

"It quite clearly isn't nothing." He argued, fingering his wand idly between his fingers. "You're worried, or upset, or angry or... Whatever you are. You don't have to tell _me._ But I think you should talk to someone. Fisher or MacDonald or Eliza or Prewett, or even Moony and Sirius, gits that they are. They're your mates, Evans. And they'd want to know."

Lily ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "I know. I just-"

She was cut off by the sound of shouting in the corridor. Exchanging a bewildered look with James, they both ran out into the corridor.

"-If you'll go out with me, MacDonald."

"Why'd you want to go out with a filthy little Mudblood like me, Rosier?" Mary retorted. "Your precious Dark Lord wouldn't want you soiling your blood with trash like-"

"Mary!" Ayden cut across. "_Don't." _

Don't talk about yourself like that. Don't shoot allegations like that. Don't make a scene... But Mary MacDonald was never one to hold her tongue... And she'd had enough.

"Give me my wand back, Rosier, and maybe I won't have to knee you in the groin. Wand or no, I can do that easily enough. Dislocating your jaw might be good fun too, and heaven knows, your face could do with some rearranging... Sorting that out for you would bring me a great amount of pleasure."

Rosier brought his face right next to hers and grinned suggestively, running a finger down her cheek. She flinched away, but made no move to stop him.

"So would coming on a date with me, if you catch my drift."

Mary turned vivid red. Ayden pulled on her arm. "You're pathetic, Rosier. Mary could do a thousand times better than you ever could. And I'll tell you something. She doesn't have to curse someone in order to persuade them to go out with them."

Rosier sneered. "From what I've heard, no one _will _go out with her. Not since the Pettigrew incident..."

Mary's hands curled into fists at her sides, and Lily started forwards, but James grabbed her arm. "Wait." He whispered.

"You know what, maybe you're right." Mary said, her voice careful and controlled, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Maybe you know everything there is to know about me, Evan Rosier. Maybe I am frigid, and bitchy, and muggleborn." The insults came spilling out of Mary's tongue like poison, bitter and sour in her mouth, making her want to retch. But she fired them at the boy in front of her anyway, the boy holding her wand, and afterwards, she could never quite work out why she'd said any of them at all...

Perhaps it was because she was angry... Perhaps she was scared. Perhaps she was just so goddamn sick of the insults people whispered behind each other's backs... I mean, did they really think that the people they fired them at wouldn't notice? Wouldn't care? Yes, things were dangerous, and her right to hold a wand was being disputed even as they spoke. Yes, every single child of muggle parentage was in danger, persecuted, terrorised... And yes, she hadn't gone out with anyone after that disastrous date with Peter Pettigrew last year. But her entire Hogwarts career, curses had been aimed at her in the corridor, and purebloods had sneered, and her magic had been questioned. And honestly... How could one weigh against the other? How could people level such ridiculous insults at each other, and just expect them not to care? Or even worse, expect them to matter, when there were much more hefty slurs on their mind?

If a girl wasn't slutty, she was frigid. If she wasn't anorexic, then she was fat. If she wasn't pretty, then she was ugly. If she wasn't swotty then she was dense. And... If she wasn't prejudiced or a bloodtraitor, then she was a mudblood. Insults were registered in these corridors, each and every day, and they were and ridiculous. And Mary Macdonald had had enough.

She was _tired. _She was tired, and he had her wand, and he was a death eater.

And she hadn't yet run out of things to say.

"Maybe my parents are greengrocers, and I have to work to get where I do, and maybe I've turned down every single offer of a date since this time last year. Maybe I avoid duels like the plague, and maybe I always come in second best at the end of the year. But at least I don't wait until my opponent's back is turned to disarm them, or curse 3rd year girls."

"Are you calling me a coward, MacDonald?"

"I guess maybe I am." Mary answered, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "But can you honestly dispute that? Can you honestly look at yourself in a mirror and kid yourself into thinking you're not?"

She turned to Ayden, her eyes sparkling... He put a hand on her arm again, and with one last glare at Rosier, proceeded to lead her away.

"Maybe I'll just keep your wand, then." He sneered, calling after them. "Not like a mudblood like you would know how to use it, anyway."

Lily saw Mary close her eyes, tears spilling from behind her closed lids and etching their way down her cheeks. And she snapped.

"Expilliarmus!" She yelled, and both Mary and his own wand flew out of the startled Rosier's hands. She tossed it back to Mary, who caught it, shock etched into every line of her face, staring at Lily as if she had never seen her before...

"I think you'll find mudbloods like myself are perfectly apt at using our wands, Rosier." Lily said simply, turning her opponents wand over in her fingers. It was heavy, and ugly, and felt unfamiliar in her hand... But there was a certain victory in being able to hold the wand between her fingers at all that allowed her to forget the strangeness of the entire situation.

"And I'd thank you not to start fights in front of the Head's offices. Sets a bad precedent, you know... _Dreadful _amount of paperwork."

Rosier just stuttered, looking at the head girl in incoherent outrage as he stuttered incoherently.

"What was that?" James asked pleasantly as the rest of the watching crowd laughed. "Can't quite hear you mate. Sorry."

"You little-" Rosier started.

The sound of Mary McDonald's slap echoed right around the corridor as a sharp intake of breath was sucked between the teeth of the ever watchful crowd.

Mary proceeded to act on her earlier threat and brought her knee upwards with no small amount of force, leaving him doubled over, gasping...

"And that." She finished in triumph, with one last punch to the nose. "Is how we do things the muggle way."

And so it was that a rather uneventful day in mid October turned into a rather eventful October, all over a narrow stick of wood and who would be going with who to the next Hogsmede weekend. It could have been an ordinary teenage drama, transpiring between ordinary teenaged wizards...

Except that it wasn't. Not in the slightest.

ℓℓℓ

James looked up as Lily entered the head offices again. She looked better than she had earlier... And when she saw him, she gave him a genuine- if somewhat weary- smile.

"Mary's finished up with McGonagall. She wants statements from us... Rosier's twisted it all around, of course, so there's to be an official investigation. All in all, however, we're off the hook, and the only thing Mary's lost is house points and a couple of Saturdays."

"Not a bad price to pay for your pride." James commented mildly. Lily grinned.

"Indeed."

"Listen-" She started, and James looked up. "About earlier... I just wanted to say I'm sorry.. You were right about the whole... Telling someone thing. And I'm working on it. I'll probably write to Alice. It's just hard, and I'm not sure I'm ready to tell anyone yet. But it was wrong of me to snap at you, and I shouldn't have said I wanted you to go away. So... I'm sorry."

James nodded, and offered her a smile. "If that's all you have to apologise for, Evans, then you have lived a very sheltered existence. But as for snapping at me... It's forgotten."

Lily smiled, and there was a brief silence in which James returned to his paperwork and Lily examined the tips of her fingers in her lap. But it wasn't uncomfortable, and he had no desire to break it, whilst she had nothing more to say.

"I have read the book, you know." She offered finally.

His gaze snapped up from the form he was filling out, a wide smile unfurling slowly across his face. "And?" He prompted.

"And... God, it was amazing." Lily replied. "Have you read Animal Farm?"

"Yeah. I had to get Remus to explain communism to me like, 17 times, but it was worth it..."

"Isn't it?" Lily grinned. "I must admit, though, you've outdone me a bit. She's a bit deep, old Emily Bronte... It was just spectacular. Exactly up my street. But tell me about Animal Farm... What did you think?"

"It's quite a... I don't know." James started. "It has some weird messages... but you could sort of see where it was heading, don't you think? I mean, a pig's the most greedy creature _on _a farm. You have to admit that it was kind of obvious they'd want more than just equality."

Lily scoffed. "Right. You expect me to believe you just _guessed _they were going to turn on the other animals like that... Although this is a Marauder I'm talking about, I guess."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're like the three musketeers." Lily teased. "You're all like: Friendship! Comrades! Loyalty! But you get what you want, and if a couple of innocent hufflepuffs stand in your way, you have absolutely no qualms about walking all over them."

"You did not just compare the Marauders to the pigs from Animal Farm!" James cried, staring at her. Lily laughed.

And the rest, as they say, was history.


End file.
